


Return of the Elf-Prince

by imogene_lovelace



Series: The Beginning of a Fellowship [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, M/M, More than Legolas wanted to know about dwarves, Naughty words in several of Middle Earth's languages, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-02
Updated: 2006-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29101440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imogene_lovelace/pseuds/imogene_lovelace
Summary: Turnabout is fair play.  Eomer has an Elvish lesson.
Relationships: Éomer Éadig/Legolas Greenleaf
Series: The Beginning of a Fellowship [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135178
Kudos: 4





	Return of the Elf-Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Third in a trilogy. Will make marginally more sense if you first read The Beginning of a Fellowship and The Other Two Towers.
> 
> Disclaimer: Tolkien is surely spinning in his grave. Peter Jackson and co. surely knew this would happen.

Legolas winced slightly as he sat down on the rough wooden bench with his breakfast. Gimli, seated to his left, rumbled a deep laugh. "You've been riding horses too much, eh? There are far too many of those beasts around here for my taste." 

From his seat on the right, Aragorn let out what might have been a giggle in a less dignified man. "He's been riding _something_ too much," he said in a voice dripping with innuendo. 

"Is he blushing?" exclaimed Gimli. "I didn't know elves could blush! Thought it was beneath them." 

Legolas was indeed blushing as Aragorn's analogy brought to mind an event of two nights earlier, when Eomer had done his best impression of a bucking bronco while flat on his back in bed as Legolas rocked on top of him. The soreness, however, was most likely a result of last night, when Eomer took him from behind and Legolas had commanded his lover to thrust harder and faster; Eomer's compliance had resulted in a spectacular orgasm but a tender backside. Or maybe it wasn't any one event in isolation but rather the repetition, as Legolas had engaged in some variation of being pounded into the mattress by Eomer at least once a night for the past ten days. 

Gimli's voice shook him out of his reverie. "What's he getting at, hmm? I've been wondering where you disappear to every day after supper." 

Aragorn looked at the increasingly mortified Legolas. "Are you going to tell him?" he asked in Elvish. 

Legolas mumbled something which might have been "go ahead" or a particularly dainty Elvish curse. Taking either as a sign that he was authorized to inform their hirsute friend, Aragorn lifted the knife he'd been using to spear his meat and waved it in the direction of Eomer, who had just appeared across the courtyard and was trying hard to make his repeated glances at Legolas seem innocent. The look on Gimli's face faded from puzzled to understanding, briefly dallied with astonished, and finally settled on sly. 

"You've been banging the heir to the throne of Rohan and you haven't told me about it?" 

Legolas buried his face in his hands. _I'm a member of the oldest, wisest race in Middle Earth and I'm being teased about my sex life by a man and a dwarf. Can this possibly get any more embarrassing?_

The answer to that question, of course, was yes, as Gimli continued, "You should tell him to give you a break---give him a taste of his own medicine, if you know what I mean. He seems the type that's secretly hoping for it." Gimli winked at him. 

The elf's astonishment at this advice must have been obvious. "What, you think dwarves never heard of such things?" said Gimli. "I never went in for it myself, but I know plenty of fellows that do. There are many more dwarf men than there are women, so the men that can't find wives, why, they have only each other for company. Besides, when the men look pretty much like the women, it's hard to make much of a fuss about the difference anyway." He chuckled. "The big tough fellows are always the ones that walk around grinning like idiots when someone finally bends them over." 

Legolas thought his head might explode. 

**********

Sometimes when an idea is presented, even in the most bizarre of circumstances, it has a way of working itself into one's head and refusing to leave, like a houseguest who shows up unannounced with muddy feet and proceeds to steal all the pillows for weeks. So it was with Gimli's suggestion. For the rest of the day Legolas' mind was overrun with images of Eomer on his back (and on his knees, and against the wall, and bent over a table). 

Legolas wondered if Eomer would be receptive to the idea. The man had mentioned many lovers, but not what he had done with them. Given that most of them seemed to have been under Eomer's command, Legolas guessed that most, if not all, of the men had fallen face-down on the bed for their lord. _Not that I blame them. I essentially did the same._ There was something about Eomer that invited it, definitely, which made Legolas all the more anxious to prove that he was not merely the latest conquest. 

He pondered how best to broach the subject. _He might like it if I just dragged him into a storage closet and took him...but then again, he might not._ With another elf he would have simply asked, but Legolas didn't know if there was some sort of etiquette among men about such matters. 

Legolas briefly considered asking Aragorn for advice on men, but decided that it would be far too awkward. _Besides, he probably wouldn't know anyway. I don't think he goes in for that sort of thing._

**********

"Aragorn, can I ask you something?" Eomer looked slightly nervous. 

Aragorn nodded, trying hard to suppress a smile. He had a strong suspicion that Eomer was yet again seeking advice from the local expert on man-elf love. He certainly wouldn't be fiddling with the hem of his tunic quite so distractedly if he wanted to discuss politics. 

"Have you ever worried that you weren't, you know, good enough for an elf?" 

"I very much hope that by 'not good enough' you are referring to a general sense of unworthiness as a mortal, and not my skills in the bedroom." 

Eomer looked positively horrified; this time Aragorn couldn't help laughing. 

"Come on, you couldn't have resisted that one either," said Aragorn, giving his companion a friendly slap on the shoulder. "To answer your question...yes. All the time. Arwen is the most exquisite female in Middle Earth, and I'm just a man. When I think about what she's willing to give up for me..." his voice trailed off. "But what's important is that she chose me, and she thinks I'm worthy. Legolas must think you're good enough, or he wouldn't be racing for your bedroom every night." 

"But you're not just a man. You were raised in Rivendell, weren't you? You know their ways. You speak Elvish. I don't know anything." Eomer suddenly grinned. "Well, a few words, maybe. I've been learning." 

"Oh, really? Which words are those?" 

"Actually, I think they're all rather obscene." 

Aragorn laughed so hard he nearly fell off his chair. 

**********

"So tell me," said Eomer, with as much academic detachment as he could muster with a lapful of naked elf, "which Elvish phrases is it most important for a beginner to master?" 

"That depends," replied Legolas in between licks of the hollow above Eomer's collarbone, "on your primary purpose in communicating with an elf." He sat back, straddling Eomer's legs, and looked him in the eye. "If you wish to say, 'Excuse me, I am lost; please tell me the way to Rohan,' you say this," and he repeated the phrase in Elvish. 

"What if I am already in Rohan?" 

"Then you might want to discuss current events." Legolas said something else, of which Eomer caught only the word 'yrch.' "That means, 'Please show me which way the orcs went, as I wish to pursue and kill them." 

"And what if I want an elf to join me in forgetting about current events for a while?" 

"Then you could say, 'Would you do me the honor of joining me for a drink?'" 

"Or a bath." Eomer laughed. "That one might be useful." He repeated the Elvish, slowly. "And if the elf accepts my invitation, and afterwards I want to engage him in more intimate activities?" 

"You could pay him a compliment. Elves are very vain," said Legolas, tossing his long blond hair for dramatic effect. "You could say, 'I cannot stop staring at your ass. Would you like to accompany me to my bedchamber so I can remove your clothes?'" 

Eomer repeated this as well, paying particular attention to the pronunciation of the Elvish words for 'ass' and 'bedchamber.' 

"And once I have an elf in my bedchamber, and I have removed his clothes, and I can see that his ass is very fine indeed..." Eomer ran his fingers over the body part in question. "Would he think it too forward if I told him he has a beautiful cock?" 

Legolas drew in a sudden breath. "No, I believe that he would be very pleased with the compliment," he said in a low, husky voice. "You would say it like this." He leaned in to whisper the phrase in Eomer's ear, his tone of voice making it very clear that he meant to return the compliment, and the hardness pressing against Eomer's stomach an indication that flattery would get him everywhere. 

Eomer made him repeat the word for 'cock' several times, to be sure that he heard the pronunciation correctly. 

"Once you have complimented your elf," said Legolas, "he might be so pleased with you that he says something like this." He ran his tongue around the outside of Eomer's ear before whispering a few words into it. 

"And what does that mean?" 

"I want to fuck you." 

Eomer looked into Legolas' eyes, awed and aroused by the hunger he saw there. He had never thought about it before. _Liar. Yes you have. You've fantasized about that body, so slender yet so strong, throwing you down on the bed and taking you, making you feel what you know he must feel every time you've done it to him. But only late at night when you're almost asleep, because you've never thought about that with anyone else before and it scares you._

No one had ever asked him that before, ever made a move in that direction. All his life men had deferred to him; as the king's nephew, the third marshal, and now as the heir to the throne, everyone assumed that he was in charge. Every man who came to his tent had eventually lain down on the bed and offered himself to Eomer, waiting for him to take them. 

But not Legolas. Yes, he had fucked Legolas, repeatedly, but he had never really been under the illusion that he was in charge. As he looked at the elf now, he was suddenly reminded that he must seem but a boy to Legolas, who had lived so long yet seemed so youthful, who was so graceful yet seemed made of steel. The thought of that power possessing him was painfully arousing. 

Legolas was looking at him expectantly, maybe even a little nervously, waiting for his response. The thought of satisfying him sent tingles of excitement through Eomer's body. 

"If an elf said such a thing to a man of Rohan, he might say this." Eomer uttered a phrase in his own tongue. "It means, 'I want you inside me.'" 

With a soft moan of desire, Legolas leaned forward to press his lips urgently against Eomer's, his tongue staking possession of the man's mouth, hands running roughly down his sides to cup the smooth curve of his ass. Eomer pulled away, suddenly embarrassed. He'd grown used to feeling very accomplished in sexual matters, but this was one area in which he had no personal experience, and he was afraid of disappointing his lover. "But...I've never done it that way before." 

"Don't worry. You have a most exemplary grasp of the basic concept." 

Legolas slid down Eomer's body, following a winding trail from neck to nipples to navel with his mouth. He stopped just short of where Eomer was beginning to hope he would go, and instead veered left, urging the man to roll onto his stomach. Eomer expected the licking to move upward, or maybe cease altogether in favor of other activities, but Legolas' tongue was still progressing steadily toward its destination. Eomer was shocked. Surely he wouldn't? He himself had never put his mouth _there_ on a man before. 

Legolas would, and did. Eomer wasn't prepared for the intensity of the sensation. He writhed and shouted, causing Legolas to raise his head in concern. "Are you all right?" 

"Yes," Eomer panted. "It's just...I never..." 

"Regular bathing has so many more benefits than one might initially think," said Legolas matter-of-factly. "Besides, the most important thing is that you're relaxed, and this is the best way to make sure of that. Don't you like it?" 

"Yes, I do," insisted Eomer, who by now was wishing that Legolas would stop talking and resume what he had been doing with his tongue. "Don't stop." 

Eomer buried his face in the pillow to muffle his moans as Legolas continued licking him. Every movement of the elf's tongue seemed to send a vibration right to his cock. At the same time, it made him ache for more, and the thought of Legolas putting his cock where that tongue was currently stroking flooded him with an overwhelming pang of desire. "Please," he murmured. "I need..." 

The tongue stopped. "I know," said Legolas softly. "Can you reach the bottle?" Eomer stretched out a hand to pull open the drawer by the bed, and passed the oil back to Legolas. 

A moment later, he gasped as he felt a slick finger massaging him, then sliding gently inside. He tensed his muscles almost involuntarily. "Relax," he heard Legolas say, and Eomer willed himself to do so. "Think about how much you want it. Think about wanting me inside you." 

Eomer thought about it. Soon he couldn't remember ever wanting anything so much in his life, as Legolas moved his finger carefully, searching. When he found the right spot, Eomer nearly screamed with pleasure. He heard Legolas asking him if he was ready, and he merely nodded, unable to speak. 

Eomer found himself suddenly and unexpectedly flipped onto his back, followed by an iron grip on his hips, pulling him to the edge of the bed. Dazed, he looked up to see Legolas standing between his spread legs, chiseled form framed by the bedposts. "I want to see your face while I'm fucking you." 

If it were possible to die from excessive arousal, Eomer decided, then the combination of Legolas' words and the way his arm muscles tensed as he held Eomer's hips would surely have done him in. Eomer raised his legs to rest on Legolas' shoulders, opening himself fully to his lover. If he had thought that begging, "pleaseplease fuck me now," would have made Legolas take him any sooner, he would have. 

As it was, Legolas was already busy coating his achingly hard cock with the oil, and his heavy breathing and look of utmost desire convinced Eomer that they were in much the same state. 

Eomer was more than ready for him. When Legolas first entered him he felt strangely full---the elf's cock was considerably larger than his finger---but when Legolas was deep enough inside him, all other sensations were drowned in a sea of pleasure. 

Legolas moved inside him slowly, gently, and Eomer was amazed by his control. In their previous encounters the elf had been completely wanton in bed, wild and needy and demanding. (As Eomer's grasp of the Elvish sexual vocabulary improved, he realized just how often Legolas employed such words as 'faster,' 'harder,' 'more,' and 'now.') But now that he was responsible for making sure that Eomer enjoyed his first time on the receiving end of a good fuck, the elf was a perfect gentleman. His fine features radiated authority and tender concern. He looked, in fact, much as Eomer's first impression of elves, and of Legolas in particular, had been---completely in command of his world. Only in this case, his world happened to be Eomer's ass. It was rather sweet, really, but Eomer didn't want tender, and he didn't want gentle. What he did want was for Legolas to hit that spot inside him with his cock, as hard and as frequently as possible. 

"Faster," he breathed, bucking against Legolas' hips. The elf increased his pace, and Eomer moaned as Legolas' cock stroked him inside in just the right place, over and over. "Oh, yes...fuck me," he gasped. That did it. Calm, noble, gentle Legolas was immediately replaced by wild, wanton, needy Legolas, holding Eomer's thighs for leverage while thrusting into him frantically. 

Legolas was not too far gone to pay proper attention to Eomer's cock, bringing its owner to new heights of ecstasy though the combined sensations of being stroked inside and out. When Eomer came, he screamed "oh fuck yes" in at least two languages. Legolas, who possessed powers of timing presumably known only among elves, found his release at the same moment, keeping his eyes fixed on Eomer while moaning something in Elvish. (It took Eomer three days and enough Rohan ale to render a man unconscious to drag the translation out of Legolas. It was, "You're so fucking beautiful.") 

Climbing onto the bed, Legolas collapsed on top of Eomer, who twined a hand in the elf's hair while claiming his mouth fiercely. When they paused to breathe, Eomer traced the outline of Legolas' jaw with his finger. "That was amazing," he said. "Why had I never done that before?" 

"Because no one else would have been as good as me." Legolas smiled smugly. 

Eomer didn't doubt it. "Then clearly, as a reward for your skill, I should grant you exclusive rights." 

Legolas laughed. "And what of your many admirers in the ranks?" 

"They'll just have to admire from afar. That is, of course, if a man of the Mark is worthy of an elf." 

"Most definitely worthy," murmured Legolas, leaning in to capture Eomer's lips again. 

**********

Eomer winced slightly as he sat down on the bench with his breakfast. 

"Way to go, laddie!" Gimli, standing nearby with Legolas, heartily slapped the elf on the back as high up as he could reach. "So was I right about him, then?" 

Legolas put his hands over his face and groaned.


End file.
